Picture yourself in a boat on a river,
with a tangerine breeze and marmalade flies,
suddenly you find yourself, awake in a room,
where all of the walls have eyes,
surprise!
and even the ceiling, below the floor,
your art,
your shadows, your snowy new prose,
your drums, outcomes, doldrums
and wayfaired despair.
Your dreams and extremes, seem
to have eyes,
and with certainty, the skies are wise, my love…
Indeed, the sky has eyes,
Overhead Eyes that won’t ever, no never, lie or
alcoholize, anesthetize, analogize, animalize,
cannibalize, hypnotize, chastize, minimize, hurt or capitalize you,
my dear, indeed, these eyes won’t minimize
you.
You are seen, you are seen
and have been
the aquamarine queen
in the in-between world
of love,
my dove!
